


We learn our lessons too late

by bubblegumgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, maybe sterek. i havent decided yet, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumgirl/pseuds/bubblegumgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red boots. He remembers she was wearing red boots the first time he saw her. They made her hips sway as she’d made her way into the class room, each step punctuated by a sharp click.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We learn our lessons too late

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently i was in the mood for slightly depressing fanfiction.
> 
> im thinking of writing a second chapter where sourwolf here meets stiles and we hear his internal monologue or something. if this gets good reveiws or if people are interested, i might write it.
> 
> unbetaed and barely edited so forgive any mistakes and im sorry its so short. 
> 
> comments are love!! :)

Red boots. He remembers she was wearing red boots the first time he saw her. They made her hips sway as she’d made her way into the class room, each step punctuated by a sharp _click_.

“My name,” She’d begun, rolling her gaze around the room, stopping for just a fraction longer on him, her lips twisting into something that could be almost called a smile. _I know a secret, I know a secret about you and I'm not going to share_ , she seemed to be saying, “is Miss Argent. Kate, if I decide I like you.”

The boys in the class sat just that little bit straighter, paid just a little more attention, excited by the idea of a challenge, of the prize at the end. A prize all wrapped up in long, blonde hair and red boots.

He was no exception. 

Two weeks later he was meeting her after school for private tutoring. Three weeks after that, he was getting lessons in something entirely different.

It was a thrill in the beginning, an ego boost. His head was held high, a smug smile firmly in place every time he saw another boy’s eyes linger just a little too long on her. He was getting something no other boy in this school was, he was getting what they all wanted, what they all thought about in those moments they were alone. They would sneak around, grabbing every opportunity, every available moment they could.

On the rare occasions they had time to lay together afterwards, they would talk. She would tell him stories of her childhood, of how it had felt to grow up without a mother and then later without her father either. He would lie next to her and hold her, writing off the stutters in her heartbeat as sadness and pain. He’d told her the truth eventually, some sick combination of blind admiration and a desperate need to reciprocate with his own secrets, like the ones she had told him. With a beating heart he had shown her his claws and his eyes flashing blue, ignoring the voice in his head that said this was a bad idea. She hadn’t run from him that day, she had taken his hand and told him how thankful she was that he had trusted her enough to tell her.

That small voice in his head grew louder with each day that passed, with each strangely specific question she asked him while they lay naked and sated together in bed. His heartbeat stopped quickening when he heard her red boots come down the hall. He no longer arousal that caused his cheeks to blush when he thought about them together, but shame and embarrassment. When others looked at her, he felt no pride at his actions, no sense of achievement that he had seen more than they would ever see. Let them see, let them take what was given to him. He didn't want it, he didn't want the stolen moments anymore, the heated looks and lingering touches. But he didn't know how to make it stop.

“Derek, what’s wrong?” His mother had asked him one day, sitting him down at the kitchen table.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He had replied, knowing that she had heard the lie. Everything was wrong.

“Derek, you’re scared. I can smell it.” She had wrapped her arms around him, then, burying her nose in his hair. “Baby, you’re terrified, what is it?”

She was right, he felt so fucking scared, so out of control with his life. Why was he feeling like this? He had been given something every other guy in his school would kill to have the chance to try. So why did he just want to give it back?

He’d pulled away from her, turning and running from the house, ignoring Laura who was hovering at the door. She had heard everything, he knew. When he stumbled back home that night, clothes ripped and covered in dirt, his mother had given him a look but hadn’t said a word.

They had never gotten the chance to ask him again. That was the night he woke up choking on smoke and ash. That was the night he’d heard red boots making their way through the forest.

He would realise, a month later, that she had never let him call her Kate.

 

 


End file.
